Inevitable

13 years ago I ended a relationship and was sure that there was a real possibility that I was making the biggest mistake of my life.  I remember telling L the whole time I was trying to decide that I knew I would never meet another guy that loved me as much as he did but at the end of the day I was ok with that because I just needed to be free.  So I ended it with the first real boyfriend, first love, first guy I slept with... etc.

I stand by my decision.  Maybe not how I handled it exactly, but the decision.  I just wasn't the girl that could settle with the fact that I met the love of my life at 17.  And when you see my sister, who did the same thing but married him and is so happy, it seems weird but that's how we're different.  I just couldn't accept that my life adventures independently were done.  I knew I would wake up later in life and slowly resent him for never being me by myself in adulthood.  And I loved my 20's.  I loved being single, being daring, being ridiculous so many times but at the end of the day, being me and learning who me was.   

It wasn't an easy decision and at the time I couldn't articulate why I wanted to end it.  My friends will tell you it was because he couldn't keep a job, let me pay for everything and was too jealous/possessive.  These things were true to a point, but they forget the very end because I didn't point it out.  The day I left him, he had a great job and we were doing great, I just felt claustrophobic.  I couldn't explain it... I just needed out.  I broke.  I'd given him everything, except the rest of my life...

We still have mutual friends.  And everyone remembers us as the perfect couple and I'm not going to lie, we really were.  So lately my friend P who is related to his BFF's wife keeps telling me we should get back together.  We're both single so why not.  Apparently she says so to him too.  Explains why a few of the girls reach out from time to time telling me how much they miss the old days.  More recently even L who has been team me for forever has been dropping hints.  Have you hear this, or this, or how good his job is, he has a house now, he's responsible.  She never says I think you should think about giving him another chance because she knows how far that would go with me, but I hear the undertone. 

He got on Facebook last week for the first time and L was telling me all about the stalking she had done and I just have to listen and avoid.  Later that nigh around 12 I get an invite from him.  I really didn't expect it.  It's one thing for all the bystanders to reminisce about the golden couple, but for him to reach out when I literally ripped his heart out was unexpected.  I'm not a cyber stalker by nature anyway but I couldn't even look past his profile picture.  And apparently he and L talked about us both coming to a Halloween party at his house and she asked me about it today.  Luckily I have the excuse of my annual trip to DM for cousin K's party but now I realize it's only a matter of time...  Eventually I could see P and L just making a meeting happen thinking it's not big deal.

But how do I have the conversation I have avoided?  Maybe we would see each other, smile and hug and everything would be cool.  But eventually we'd have to talk about the end, right?  How do I have that conversation?  I loved you more than anything or anyone since, but I was 19 and couldn't allow that to be the end...  I needed to be free and single and crazy and independent before I could be a wife and a mother... and I'm still not sure I'm built to me those things still.  Maybe I was scared?  But I really think I just needed to be me and I'm sorry I damn near killed you in the process.   

All the King's Men

I have a hard time feeling the things I feel let alone articulating what I'm feeling to myself and others on my own.  This has always been the case and I think it's why I have always loved music.  When I was a teen I loved what my friends and family called 'angry girl music' and most of that was because I was in fact a very angry girl deep underneath.  It didn't matter that I couldn't actually relate to the lyrics of passionate love and deep heartache that dominated the genre.  I could relate to the pain and the anger.  When I hear a song and I feel like I could have written the lyrics myself though, it stays with me. 

I heard a song that I've had on my playlist for a couple weeks but today was the first day the lyrics really stuck with me.  The song is by Karmina and the chorus is "All the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn't put me back together again".  I know it was most likely written about a break up but it immediately brought me back to how I felt when I failed treatment the last time. 

I very recently made a promise to someone that I'd address this shit again.  In general everyone thinks I'm fine because I'm not skinny.  Everyone always thinks I'm fine then when the truth is that this is when you should probably be quite concerned that I'm about to spiral.  If I don't eat people notice so the bulimia is back in full force.  I would like nothing more than to start treatment again and be successful but the thought of it brings so much anxiety. 

Within 12 hours of making a promise I'm not sure I can keep, I bought 4 different diet pills online and took out my old food journal where I obsessively calculated and recorded calories a day attempting less and less each day.  I said July would be the month I began again and it automatically awakened the survival instinct of my disorder.  It's like I decided to see how much I can lose before July when I have to be held accountable to Dr. M again.  And if I've learned nothing in the past ten years, it's that I can lose a hell of a lot in 2 months. 

The person I promised, the only one who has acknowledged that they know I'm not doing good, hasn't been in my life that long.  I contemplated today just distancing myself until they were gone and then I wouldn't have to try to get better.  I've done that to plenty and I've been so guarded and cold the past year plus that I could totally pull it off but then I feel like I'm giving up and taking the easy way out. 

But the idea of treatment is scary.  I still have nightmares from the days of visits with Dr. M one night a week, another night with the current psychologist, the next with the nutritionist and the check ins with my general doctor.  There for a while we even through in a neurologist when I started getting severe cluster headaches.  It was a drain financially but it devastated me emotionally.  I shudder to think how my partner and I survived work those days (she was bipolar) with her going off the deep end anytime they altered her meds and me a huge walking ball of anxiety prone to a melt down without warning over the smallest of issues.  I wouldn't have made it without her though.  I trusted her enough to know what my treatment entailed and that helped her predict behavior.  She soon realized what to expect depending on which medical person I would be seeing that day because they each brought on a different kind of anxiety. 

With Dr. M it depended on how I really was doing because she saw through me every time.  It is why I hate her and respect her and continue to see her if I see anyone.  No bullshitting that woman and she didn't hold back from calling me out on it.  If it was psychologist day then I was usually wound tight and irritable already dreading bringing up the past and emotional pain I spent so many years burying.  The worst, though, was nutrition days.  That kind of anxiety was new last go around when I added this component for the only time.  My psychologist promised me she wouldn't put me on  a meal plan and then in session 3 she did.  So every session thereafter I failed.  I don't handle failure well and I perceive it even when I shouldn't.  That was one of the worst things I've experienced.  I tried it for as long as I could and then I just felt like I was going to explode and lose it, so I just quit.  And then I got sicker than I ever had been. 

So here I am again.  If I don't want to start cutting people out then I have to attempt tackling the ED.  I don't know which I'm more afraid of, being overwhelmed and failing treatment yet again... or that when I fail (because I feel like it's inevitable) that I'll get sicker than last time... or that I can't help but be somewhat excited with the idea of being sicker than I've ever been... 

The price of being female

One of my best friends since I moved here in middle school called me tonight crying.  This happens a lot because I've always been her rock, therapist, life coach, etc.  But tonight it wasn't about a breakup or death or hurt feeling of some sort.  Tonight I was taken back to one of the worst phone calls she ever made to me.  "I was raped." 

The first time we were 16.  She called me and made that statement and said she had to go to work and hung up.  My whole world crashed in a way.  It's so sad to say, but almost all of my closest friends have been raped at some time in their lives.  I don't openly admit it, or in my head half the time, but I was too once upon a time ago.  This was the first person I knew though and it was terrible.  How do you be there for someone?  What do you say?  How do you make it better? 

She told her parents, the first time, and they blamed her because there was drinking.  She went to the police and they non-verbally did the same.  The DA didn't take the case at all.  The friend (girl friend of the rapist) blamed her and didn't believe it.  Most of the people at school who heard about it decided she made it up.  That's the society we lived in. 

And today when she was done crying and we were able to talk, I realized it's the world we live in today too.  The only crime where the victim is put on trial.  She already blames herself because she was drinking and she feels stupid trusting her friend's husband.  I asked what she was going to do and she isn't going to go to the police and I don't blame her.  It's more trouble than it's worth to attempt to prosecute for rape. 

She's going to hopefully go to therapy.  I'll push that.  I did mention that in our state it is actually technically illegal to have sex with someone who is intoxicated.  It was a small victory for the rape crisis center and related organizations, but in practice it doesn't really help when DA's can choose not to prosecute and defenses can tear the women apart and juries can judge the woman. 

I've been asked why I think so little of men in general (it was almost innate).  Well... this is just one of the many reasons.  But women on those juries and those making judgement against anyone who outcries are just as much to blame.  My friend is not a part of the 1-2% who lie.  Since when did we decide against the 98-99%?  When a women says she was raped, she was.  The odds are more in favor of a woman saying she wasn't when she was.  Period. 

Hope is a dangerous thing

6 years ago I taught a class of 4th graders and we became a family.  Many I had taught in 2nd grade and most of the rest were my intervention students from 3rd grade.  Basically my class had the least chance of ending the year on grade level and passing the state standardized test.  They worked harder for me than they ever had and in return I invested in them more than I ever had of my personal time and more than I ever have again.  There were few weekends and nights that I didn't have a birthday party, football game, soccer game, gymnastics meet, recital, etc.  That group still considers me their favorite teacher and they all still keep in touch not only with me but with each other.   

Thursday I received an email from H, one of those students who keeps in touch often to let me know how things are going at home and at school.  She asked if she could come meet with me at school.  Those kids are all sophomores in high school this year so when I told coworkers she had news for me they all sent my anxiety up assuming she was pregnant.  The email did seem weird and it felt like something big, but she was never the type to get into a situation like that. 

So Friday afternoon I was in my boss' office and I mentioned I was nervous about the upcoming visit.  My AP walked in and said I had visitors.  I asked if it was a high school student and she said yes and what looked like her family.  Immediately my blood pressure spiked because I know her mom well and the fact that it was a family visit was not good.  My AP mentioned I might be adopting a baby after all as I walked out to meet them. 

We made small talk and caught up on the way to my office and after we sat down and they kept asking me about myself, I stopped them and asked what the news was.  H looked down for the first time and said, "Well Ms. it's not good.  M (her best friend from our class) shot herself and is the hospital but they can't remove the bullet from her brain."

I haven't felt that way since I was 15 the day my dad sat me down to tell me my friend had died in a car wreck.  Completely caught off guard with the wind knocked out of me.  I spent the rest of the meeting quietly crying but holding myself together so that I wouldn't break down.  After all if my 15 year old student could brave coming to see her favorite teacher to tell her this terrible news so I didn't have to read it in an email, the least I could do is hold it together. 

Sweet, beautiful talented M had been battling depression for at least 2 years.  Shortly after her family moved her to a small town 60 miles away, she attempted an over dose and had been in therapy.  Over the winter break it seems she found a gun at a family members home and earlier this week she waited until she was alone and shot herself in the temple. 

She survived the shot until Thursday when she crashed and had to be put on machines.  She was not brain dead though.  The worst part of the meeting was that H and her family are very Christian and H was so sure there would be a miracle.  I know crazy things happen against what science says are in the odds but the level of hope they had in the name of a miracle... That was also heartbreaking. 

M gave in and finally got her wish later that night.  Her body was intact and ready for about 100 transplants (so I was told).  There will be a memorial this week I think, and I will see all of my kids for the first time.  I thought that event would be two years from now at their graduation.  That was how it was suppose to be. 

I lost my faith that day when I was 15 in large part due to all the words people spoke thinking it made me feel better.  It's not our place to understand the greater plan of our maker. 

I'm one of the only people in M's life who actually understands where she was the day she pulled the trigger.  The hardest part is I know the level of emotional pain she was feeling and it hurts me to know that she was feeling that.  I wish so badly I could have talked to her and told her that I knew for a fact that it would get better.  It wouldn't be easy, but it would get better. 

She wasn't a teenager who was bullied or who had a terrible home life.  She was someone who had a chemical imbalance who felt too embarrassed about the stigma of depression to even admit to her best friend why she was in therapy.  There was no one she felt she could reach out to.  She was me at 15 but no one in my family ever had a gun around. 

Status Quo

"However people know things about themselves...I knew this.  And I was afraid.  Yet I wanted it more than anything."

This is where one splits between bulimia and anorexia.  I'm almost there again.  I know I focus a lot on how terrible the bulimia is (because it is) and how addictive, but once you cross the line it's just as addictive.  Maybe more so because you want it.  You know it's bad but you want it so much anyway.  You know that you can't live your entire life as an anorexic (unless it's a short one) but you so desperately want to try.  You're addicted to bulimia because it alleviates the fact that you ate when you didn't want to so let's get it out.  It let's you react with food and then erase.  But to not need it?  To just not eat?  To be so so so thin that people notice? That's the goal from the start when you were probably first able to walk.  Let's be honest. 

I don't think I can put into words what I feel when I think of the times in my life that I actually met diagnostic criteria for anorexia.  It's actually pretty sick how proud it makes me that I ever did when so many are 'only just' FEDNOT (or EDNOS).  It's sad that I hate thinking I'm 'only' one eating disorder over another. 

I fantasize about being anorexic again.  It slipped into being a goal once more... though if I'm honest it never stopped being the goal, I just took a break for outside factors.  I say it's the relapse, it's the stress and it's because it's easier or I'm addicted.... but maybe it's simpler.  It's the status quo.  I have lived more years in this fluctuating state than anything else.  It feels more normal with a constant war inside than to be without.  Dr. M once was helping me because everything was calm and easy in my life and I was more anxious than ever before.  She ended up telling me that I unfortunately had conditioned myself to only feel normal when I had an over full plate and more on my to do list than I could ever handle.  I think I may be the same with health.

The healthier I am, the more off and anxious I am and then anxiety and insecurity pair and game over.  I don't want to count how many relationships have ended due to that friends, family and guys.  Life just is easier when I just embrace it all.  Just say whatever happens happens.  Have faith I will never take it all too far.  Because life was never better anytime I lived my life according to everyone else's rules of health. 

So back to secrets by omission.  I won't lie if anyone asks.  It's been a really long time and no one wants make be feel bad by suspecting but it'll come soon.  I wonder how it will play out this time.

Secrets

I tend to follow a certain pattern.  I try very hard to be 'normal' or 'recovered' and then I throw in the towel for one of many reasons and I start relapsing or regressing depending on your definitions and then I start rereading Wasted.  It's the only novel I have read more than 3 times... this is probably close to my 10th or more.  I tend to read it at the beginning of a relapse/crisis and then toward the end.  The end I think in order to remind myself of how messed up it all is and to remember why I should not want to live this way.  The beginning like now?  I think it's because even though I know I am one of millions, I feel so very alone and not normal. 

I could be obsessive about exercise and healthy eating and find dozens to talk to and it be socially acceptable.  I could over eat, eat terrible and be over weight and find dozens to talk to and it be socially acceptable.  Not so much for someone who is stuck uncontrollably purging what they eat to the point that starvation is really preferable.  People in my boat are out there in lager numbers, but you can't just talk about it. 

I lucked out in a way finding J when I did because I truly knew I wasn't alone and I could really attempt to talk about my feelings with someone I thought understood.  I'm alone again though because she has been recovered from a much milder case than mine for 6 years now.  I have to keep how I'm really doing to myself from her now or risk triggering her.  I won't mess with someone else's progress. 

So I'm reading old faithful again because no one has published something I can relate to more than Marya.  "I had a secret.  It was a guilty secret, certainly.  But it was my secret.  I had something to hold on to.  It was company.  It kept me calm.". This struck me tonight. 

I miss being 'sick'.  I miss hiding it.  I miss justifying it.  I miss is defining me.  In the 2ish years I attempted (more than ever before) to be recovered and healthy, I felt so empty.  It was like I was having an identity crisis and I tried desperately to define myself in many different ways (including a very dysfunctional relationship).  But I missed the identity of eating disordered.  I missed wearing the badge.  I missed people knowing or wondering.  I guess it's just been such a part of me for so long.

I'm restricting because once again the bulimia is out of control, but really I can't wait for restriction to take hold and I also, sort of, can't wait for people to take notice.  I'll hate it when it happens but it will mean I achieved something on some level.  And no matter how many ways I achieve, that one always seems to mean more to me.   

It's not perfect, but I'm not dying

I couldn't decide which shows to choose to watch this year so I gave a lot a try and picked after the first 2 episodes which ones to keep.  One was Red Band Society.  I ended up keeping it and I have to be real so a big part of the reason was that one character is an anorexic girl at the hospital.  It just naturally fascinates me to watch someone act out an ED person.  It's just so rare I get to feel that 'we have something in common' truly relatable character feeling.  It's why I love memoirs.  But I think I was also into it because I often wonder how my life would have turned out if I had been 'sick' enough to raise suspicion and alarm when I was a teen.  If I had been put in rehab or a hospital early on, would I have really recovered? 

No one questioned my health and habits until I lived with a boyfriend (I dismissed the worries) and then took the first ones serious when it was my college friends my senior year of college.  Then I went into denial and no one worried again until it was impossible to ignore at work 4 years ago.  I was 20-22 the first times and they thought it was just bulimia that was the problem.  4 years ago the restriction became apparent but I was 28... a little late to work on all that...

I watched last night's episode tonight which really struck me.  If you don't watch, the character is in the hospital, who isn't actually doing much to rehabilitate but focuses on watching her intake and weight, and as soon as she fakes it enough and gains just enough weight they let her go home.  She then goes home and is under such pressure to be normal and eat that she hides in the bathroom and for the first time purges. 

It's was really hard to watch for me because I remember being that girl.  I remember going from addicted to eating my feelings to gaining weight to trying to fight that by not eating.  And I did that so well for years until the social pressures of being normal and eating were so much that I went home desperate after eating with friends I worked with at the Italian place and I broke.  I felt she mirrored me tonight when I locked myself in my bathroom, looked in the mirror absolutely hating myself in every way imaginable.  And then I saw my toothbrush and I remember thinking if only I could get it all out...  I didn't think I could put my finger down my throat (though now 15 year later I almost don't need anything) so I grabbed the toothbrush and purged for the very first time.  And everything was better and everything was worse and nothing would ever be the same again. 

I cried when it wasn't even a scene worthy of tears because if there was one thing in my entire life I could take back it would be that.  And this is from someone who has made so many mistakes one could wish to do over but that would be the one. 

I hate how much attention anorexia gets.  I'm not saying it's good, but you either deal with learning how to survive with some level of food or you don't.  The end.  Bulimia, however, is such a silent deadly horrible thing.  You can live with it so long and no one knows.  And that is why it is so much worse.  You do so much more damage for so much longer before anyone notices.  And in my opinion it is so much more addictive.  And when someone who restricts realizes they can purge when they give in, go on auto pilot or have to appear normal, well game over. 

The day I purged and decided I preferred it to the chaos that eating did to me and that it could also throw people off... well that was game over for me.  The problem with so many of the ED is that it's not just one you're treating.  It's several.  And they each need to be dealt with separately and differently but you have to figure out which one you need to deal with and when.  I could see a therapist every day and I don't think they could keep up with which version of me to deal with.  I guess that's a big part of why I figure I just have to balance and accept them and keep living.  It's not perfect but I'm not dying.  So there.

Who wants to be normal anyway?

It never stops to amaze me, though it shouldn't, how much easier life is when I don't spend all my time trying to be 'normal' and 'healthy'.  Things this year have been so stressful and I can't lie, the moment I threw in the towel on recovery for the millionth time everything was so much easier.  And I just can't blame myself for it.  It's human nature to give in when things get really hard.  I'm not going to beat myself up over it anymore.  At the end of the day, the honest truth is this... I have been much happier while others would label me 'sick' than I have when in 'health'. 

I won't go overboard.  I can't handle random people making comments to me like 'you know it won't kill you to eat.'. But I'm more stable when I don't focus on being normal.  All I do when recovered is beat myself up about how not normal I am in my head.  I'm 31.  I'm not going to drop dead from some bulimic and anorexic tendencies anymore now than the 18 years on and off again sick.  ED kills many, but I seriously doubt I'm one of them.  I guess I'm sort of like a functioning alcoholic. 

An ED is seriously a screwed up addiction when you think about it.  For me it really all started with being addicted to food when younger.  I wrapped it all up with emotions and dealing with them until it was actually a problem. If it had been drugs the answer is to quit and never have it again.  But if you are addicted to food, you aren't allowed to quit it for good or that becomes an ED of itself.  It's like I'm a drug addict who is told I have to quit abusing the drug and learn to use it in moderation.  No one would ever advise that of a drug addict, but you do in fact tell that to people are ED. 

Maybe if I was more addicted to the starving it would make more sense.  Maybe that's what gets true anorexics, but for me it's more about not being able to handle my addiction to eating my feelings.  Then I feel guilty and purge and after enough time of purging I have to restrict in order to stop the cycle.  It's a terrible rollercoaster.  And at the end of the day I feel better restricting.  I know that these old habits I'm falling back into are not good, but they seem better than the alternative.  My head is too chaotic when trying to pretend to be someone I'm not. 

journey line

There are certain things that I have just learned to accept of myself when it comes to ED.  I've lived with it for way too long untreated to ever fully recover.  I don't mean that negatively but just practically.  No matter what part of the wellness spectrum I may be on at any given moment, weight will always be the first thing on my mind when I wake and the last thing I think about before sleep.  Even on a really good day.  Especially on a really bad day.  I will never love the full length image in the mirror.  I may appreciate the positives but I will never not see flaws.  I will never see food in a 'normal' way.  To someone who isn't ED this probably seems like excuses or not tying hard enough or giving up or just something they can't possibly imagine but it is what it is for me.  What I strive for each day is peace and small victories.  It's knowing that in this current onslaught of people obsessed with 'health' that I can't jump on that bandwagon because most of them are borderline disordered themselves and hiding it under the guise of health because let's face it... if I went in to see Dr. M and told her my diet consisted of primarily chicken and broccoli, that I ate virtually no carbs or sugars and that I did strenuous aerobic exercise for one or more hours a day... she would tell me I was relapsing... 

So I tune it all out and count it as a victory when I only spend a few hours a day thinking about food and weight and in the fact that I am idling at a higher weight than I would like and have not freaked and dived into relapse (which is my nature).  I have spent the past year focused on not letting anyone make me feel bad about where I am in my struggle.  7 years ago Dr. M would have probably thought I'd have been hospitalized my now because it didn't look good and honestly I came close a couple times.  So the fact that I never was is again a small victory.  I also spent the past year focused on my work and I worked miracles last year on a group of kids so behind that when the year was done I amazed myself at what we had accomplished. 

I've been promoted this year and there is completely new leadership and it's been a summer of changes and more to come.  Like most EDs I'm not good with forced change and so anxiety levels are high for me which is why I'm writing again. 

My job is where I shine.  It's where I can be amazing and all my own personal neuroticness doesn't get in the way.  No matter how bad a state my mental health is in, I can always do my job and it has always been my escape.  I have never been limited or handicapped by ED.  This week is the first time I have felt so and it has set me into crisis mode.  It's the closest to relapse levels that I've experienced in a long time and as I prepare to explain it I feel stupid because to most people it would so not be a big deal.  I'll probably come back and rewrite this whole post because I know I'm rambling.  Out of practice I guess. 

So new admin this year and the principal went through a program where her mentor suggested to do something called Journey Lines as a way to let the staff connect with you on a personal level and grow trust and emotional investment.  It works like this:  You draw what looks heat rate line that illustrates highs and lows of your life and you walk everyone through that in 7 minutes or less.  You are suppose to be very deep and let them really know why you are who you are and why your are where you are. 

She met with the whole leadership team and told us she was going to do it and then informed us that we all would do one and present it in front of the staff.  She did hers this morning and it was powerful and so purposeful.  My friend D did hers this afternoon and I was in tears because the big event I didn't think she'd choose to share (because I can't imagine doing so) but did is the fact that she's a rape survivor.  It was so amazing too.  But I'm to do mine Friday and everyone close to me has acknowledged how not me this will be and I'm in one of the worse states of anxiety of my adult life. 

It shouldn't be hard.  I'm not going to share everything because the label ED is not one I can afford spread around professionally.  I can't handle more eyes analyzing my size than I already deal with.  But I don't share emotional things with people period.  I mean D is driven crazy when I come home from a date and all she wants is for me to spill everything when she asks how it went and every time all she gets is "It was fine.". Drives her crazy but I'm very guarded about sharing my feelings.  Honestly I think it's because it takes me so long to figure out what I am feeling in the first place that I don't want to share prematurely and then possibly inaccurately.  Some people just feel and know what those feelings are but I don't and when I do they make me uncomfortable.  People with an ED are among the minority who can sympathize with that. 

Watching the two journey lines today made the anxiety level rise for me.  I have a fear of public speaking which is why I do trainings and such so that I can grow out of it.  It's good to do things that make you uncomfortable.  But this is that phobia paired with something that is just HARD for me.  Every therapist who has ever worked with me has spent so much time trying to get me to open up and talk about what I'm really feeling and not talk about life events purely factually.  And now, without knowing it, my new boss is requiring me to do something that is my worst nightmare.  I have to stand in front of 50 people (10 I have barely met, 5 or so that do not like me, 10 that I consider close friends who still know little about my personal background, 3 that know most of it and others that are somewhere in between) and talk about my life and how it has shaped me.  I'm beyond terrified. 

The amount of anxiety this is causing me is enough to have brought me to tears in front of D today (which freaked her out because I rarely let anyone see me cry) and she said I could totally not do it.  But to me that would be admitting failure at a job I never fail at.  It just isn't an option.  I can't admit weakness to a new boss and a staff that is to see me as their leader and expert.  And the stubborn side of me is just in self hatred mode since this shouldn't be such a big deal.  I just need to do it.  But the other part is that I'm not a dishonest person and I feel like omitting certain things is close to being dishonest but it is not smart professionally (nor could I handle it mentally) to air out all my dirty laundry.  Not to mention that much of what made me who I am are things that are not pretty for my mom who many in the district know and I can't bare to tarnish her legacy.

And on top of the anxiety of just doing this activity is that it is causing me to relive and revisit my life and painful memories and feelings... things I have spent a life time burying and ignoring because I never did learn how to just deal with the feelings so that I could talk about them without falling to pieces.  The word to describe my mind right now is chaos. 

I don't know how much sense this will make to anyone else but hopefully it will help me sleep better than the last few night...

 

"Below 100 is not good."

I'm sliding back into protective mode.  I got back up to 100 and was trying really hard to be okay with it, but wasn't and started losing again.  And now I'm being asked, as summer approaches, to get help (again).  I hate saying it, but I don't want to.  I have to see Dr. M in the next couple weeks and I'm currently ten pounds lighter than I was the last time she saw me.  That should be a lovely visit.

I've been getting shaky and dizzy most days for a while now and yesterday I had some chest pains.  I think it was more from the anxiety of testing than anything else but it made me wonder... what would it take to scare me enough to want to get better?  I'm 28 years old and about to turn 29.  I feel so ridiculous to be struggling with this issue, but I just can't seem to let it go.  I would hate for it to take a heart attack to make it all real... 

Clothes Don't Lie

It is definitely not a shocking revelation that I am not capable of seeing 'thinner' in the mirror.  Nor is it surprising that a lower number on the scale does not trigger to my brain that I am in fact thinner. 

I had a horrible Friday night and in the aftermath the rest of the weekend I realized I've seriously got to get my shit together.  I've been playing chicken with my life for a long time now in all sorts of ways.  I of course wanted to immediately place the blame everywhere but on the ED.  So number one was, I need to stop drinking so much.  But then I realized that I don't even drink that much and the sad fact of the matter is that if I ate and wasn't as thin as I am then, I wouldn't even be drunk when I did drink. 

And then started the latest battle of the war inside my head because the ED side of my brain hates it when the logical side starts wanting to make some changes.  I found myself trying to justify that I'm just not that thin, that I haven't really lost that much weight and that it is, of course, not a big deal. 

So I did what makes total sense if you want to remind yourself that you are in fact still fat, pulled out the swimsuits.  This ended up not being a great idea for my fat argument however because my swimsuits were packed away from the last move in October with all my bridesmaids dresses.  My logical self then retaliated by having me try on all the dresses.  Some (when I was biggest though not literally very big) were so ridiculously big that it wouldn't even be possible to alter without remaking the entire dress.  But even the most recent one, when I would argue I was the same size as I am now, would need to be taken in.  There was a dress my mom gave me for school (very business and classic) which I had never been able to wear when she first gave it to me because I couldn't fit into it.  (Also not shocking probably to know that my mom in her youth was also what some would call too thin.) Then when I tried it on last year it was still just a little snug around the hips for comfort at work.  Today it hung on me.  And then the icing on the cake... my junior in high school prom dress... which would also need to be taken in at least an inch or two.

Actual physical unarguable proof that at 28 I am thinner than I was at 16... and I was very thin at 16.  A big part of me felt a victory in this but there is a part that was disgusted and shocked.  I guess the question is, can that part grow and become strong enough to make some changes... I hope so. 

Here we go again...

I stopped writing on my blogs for a long time because I had successfully fooled myself that I was good again.  I let myself be distracted.  Now, I honestly don't feel like I can write on the other one since I shared that one with friends.  So back to the sanctuary of this one.  

Recently the little drama of a break gave a great excuse to pretty much just stop eating.  I honestly didn't even realize I was doing it at first.  Most likely because I hadn't been eating enough for a very long time so it wasn't much of a change.  I was asked yet again to consider checking myself in somewhere as soon as summer started.

This actually really surprised me at first because until that moment I truly didn't see myself as being smaller than I was a few months before.  In fact my weight had stayed pretty much the same, but I guess the number doesn't always tell the whole story.  I did drop weight after that though; I mean I was heartbroken what did anyone expect?  I'm below 100 which my psychiatrist has told me over and over again is 'not good'.  The rate at which I lost was enough, for a little while, to freak me out.

I had the initial little breakdown, feeling like I had failed everyone.  Was definitely going to work out treatment over the summer.  Genuine concern over the math that if unchanged left me at a weight that would kill me within two months.  It's easy to be all about getting help at first when everyone is worried and all you want is for them not to be.

But now I've stopped dropping but am not willing to gain.  The idea of treatment terrifies me because I'm still, even at 28, not ready to give it up.  Wanting to want to get better isn't enough for me to justify the money and time.  I just don't want to fail again.  So currently I'm eating far too little and dealing with all the side effects.  You hear people say it all the time, but it still amazes me that the smaller I get the worse my anxiety is.

So now I'm back where I keep finding myself.  The free 'I just broke up with my boyfriend' pass will not last much longer.  Maybe someday the whole relapse drama will get tiring enough to actually recover instead...

Relapse?

I hate myself.  I'm fat, horribly fat.  I wight 103 again and I haven't worked out in a week or more.  I eat and I shouldn't.  I can see the fat everywhere.  It's EVERYWHERE.  So much too much everywhere.  If getting better means getting fat forget it.  I wasn't even trying to get better, just got distracted and lazy I guess and here I am so fucking fat!  I hate me.  I hate my body.  And fuck this.  I will get thinner soon. 

My other, other life

I have 3 lives on FB.  The original I started 8 years ago during my last years of college which is my link to friends past, present, and future.  It allows me to post funny stories, thoughts, or other info of which I'd rather not share a million times individually.  It lets my friends share pics (bc I never have a camera) and gives a nice way for a group of us to have a conversation together without flooding our work email accounts.

I have a second account I started with my professional (legal) name which is my teacher only page.  I created it because people I worked with were requesting me and there are just parts of my life that are private.  Not that I'm ashamed or do anything wrong, but I live in the south (bible belt) and there are a lot of judgmental people.  Plus, the me I am outside of work has nothing to do with the me at work.

Recently I started a third.  I've been struggling with the fact that even I can't ignore that I have two me's that fight for control of my life.  The me that's always been here and the me that developed when ED started controlling aspects of my life.  So I started another account for the me that is ED.  I go back and forth from denial and reality.  There are times when I will argue that we aren't two different people and that I've never lost control and that it's not a problem.  No matter where I may be on the spectrum between the two, the fact of the matter is that there are thoughts and people that I couldn't share or be friends with on my original page that I can on the Alice one.  That kind of says it all.  I really admire those that I am friends with that have both.  I can't.  Too much to lose.

I often wonder about the girls that seem to have all the hundreds of us ED identities as friends along with their actual 'real world' friends.  How can they do that?  My friends would totally freak out.  Is it a generational thing?  I'm almost 30 and most of these girls are about 20 (a painful amount under).  Is it more widely accepted among peers now to be ED?  Or are these girls the exception that I just happen to notice.  I mean the vast majority of my friends on this page are using aliases like me.

Random thoughts today as I am stuck in my hotel room in the rain at a conference.  I also find myself with more time to sift through all the status updates on the Alice account.  This may offend some readers and please don't start an argument on my blog, but there are a disturbing amount of 'bigger' (overweight it appears but I've never seen them) girls on there.  I didn't notice how many at first because, like mine, their pictures are not themselves.  Why did it disturb me?  They are seeking advice to become anorexic.  I know I've discussed this to some length before on one and/or the other blog, but why on earth would you want to start an addiction?  A disorder?  Jump down the rabbit hole without knowing how to get out or how hard it will be to do so if you even can?

And I know I don't know them, but I can't help but wonder... Have you tried just cutting calorie intake and increasing exercise?  And stuck with that for 6 months consistently?  I've never really been physically overweight.  I say physically because mentally I feel overweight all the time.  It doesn't stop... ever.  But I have to think that if I were actually overweight with no history of an ED that I would try that first.  Going to no matter what we might say is basically a proana or at least supportive of ana social group seems like it should be a last resort.  Or not even that.  I'm actually pretty confused.

I joined this huge population of people on FB to remind myself that I'm not alone.  That I'm not crazy or a freak.  Most of the time I know this on my own, but sometimes I forget and don't see it.  Sometimes in the midst of huge amounts of therapy, between all your appointments with different professionals, while you're battling to 'work through' your issues, when all your friends are painfully obviously trying to understand you and support you while not enabling you, or during the periods when you are trying very hard to hide the creeping return of habits that won't die you can forget that you are not alone.  When I made my Alice account I felt very alone.  I needed to actually see the others out there like me.  Some worse, some better and all of us at different points of our journey.

Have I used it as a trigger?  Have I used it for diet tips?  Have I used it for exercise advice?  Of course, but I can do a google search for that if it's what I'm looking for.  And I can understand girls in the throws of ED looking for and giving support to other girls with ED.  They are in the middle of some of the worse parts of the disorder and that's understandable (to me).  I don't understand going on there as a non ED person in hopes that someone will help you become one.  I just don't.  And really I find it offensive because I would give anything to take it away (when I'm on the reality side of the spectrum and not denial of course).

When I started off restricting, I wanted to be thin.  I didn't want to be bones.  That crept in over time as thinner was never thin enough.  I'm in the middle of another 'relapse' now and struggle with the fact that it's 50/50 with people whether I look great or am too thin.  I was called 'sorta boney' by a guy I met the other night as in he honestly would have found me more attractive if I weighed a little more.  I'm struggling with staying here because when I look in the mirror and start to see bones I haven't seen in a very long time it's so enticing to keep going.  I see skeletal thinspo though and I'm disturbed.  I don't want to want to look like that.  But when I'm honest, I'm not sure how much control the me that thinks that has anymore.

So again, why would you want that?  Why would you start off the bat wanting skeletal (or saying you do)?  I feel like ana's are being used to some degree.  Like they (and I say they because I don't meet criteria for AN) are the next big fad diet.  Like their disorder is something to try and start doing like Atkins.  I hate this culture of I want it and I want it now.  If you NEED to lose weight and you are not ED then make better food choices and work out or just get some cardio in.  I say if you are not ED because it is more complicated if you are.  At one point I did need to lose a little weight and I did start off by eating a little less and exercising, but unfortunately I have a tendency to go overboard.  But right now I feel like ana has turned into a crash diet to add onto the list of yo-yo dieting that too many people try when the real answer is simpler.

In the spirit of my venting not too long ago about the double standard of overweight versus underweight people I have to say this...  Who's crazier?  Someone who started off with mild weight loss and issues that spun out of control and into an ED, or someone who straight up decides one day that they want to give anorexia a try to lose some weight?

Pro-choice/Pro-education

I feel like my two blogs are going to start to read very differently from now on.  I had major fall out after a couple recent posts on my open to friends blog and am going to have to keep those posts more pro recovery and positive and unfortunately at times less honest.  It's just easier that way, which is actually why I started this one anyway.  It's not that I'm pro-ana because I'm not.  I would never wish ED on anyone.  I am what I guess you could call pro-choice-ana?  As in it's your body so it's your choice just like my stance on some other body issues.  My friends however would see this as a sign that an intervention and hospitalization are in order.  Again I'd like to point out that if they have the extra tens of thousands of dollars, I'd probably give it a go.

I commend anyone and everyone who seeks recovery and treatment.  I myself have been in and out of therapy/treatment for years.  Just haven't gotten to the point that I'm truly going for just me or to where I can honestly 100% say "I want to get better and beat this."  I want to want to get better most days.  Unfortunately since I'm not where I want to be weight wise, I'm not willing to get there yet and still question whether it's really a big problem in the first place.

I was thinking today about how while I think it's your choice if you are content with ED, that as with drugs and alcohol early education is key in this decision.  I see so many very young girls on FB who are pro-ana.  This made me sad because I see myself in them... just back a decade and a half.  Eating disorders are a teen epidemic similar to teen pregnancy.  I have very strong opinions on how important sex ed is in public schools and it made me wonder what sort of education goes on about ED.  I know that when I was in high school we talked about it in one health class for one class period.  I remember exactly how it was taught.  We watched For the Love of Nancy.  What did I learn?  That my secret obsession about weight and starving was an actual disorder (so stay quiet) and I learned a lot of new ways to go about it.  I had a new name for my goal, anorexia.  The film didn't scare me straight.  It didn't make the disorder unappealing to me.  It sort of glorified it for me.  The movie and the following lecture really only tried to warn of the physical side effects of ED.  The shock value if you will.

Well as a 15 year old who had already been restricting for at least 4 years and depressed for lord knows how long before that and suicidal, telling me I might die or do permanent damage to my body wasn't exactly the way to get me to seek help or change.  I wonder if that's still how it works today, but hopefully at least with a more recent movie.

So the next question I asked myself today was, what would have worked?  I would give anything to be able to undue the things that caused the ana behaviors.  I can still see and hear my thoughts the day I met mia and wish that I would have not been introduced because she is so supportive when the seductress that is ana is playing hard to get.  But what would have made a difference by the time I was that 15 year old girl in health class?

Out of everything I learned then and later in college, nothing ever really focused on the psychological side effects of ED (which I realize were still in the process of being understood).  They didn't focus on what it's like in your head during and forever after.  That might have scared me into help thirteen years ago and I would have stood a much better chance at recovery then.  I don't know, maybe it needed to be real.

I was watching Thin the other day (I watch it often) and thought today about how I would have reacted to it then.  Now its comforting for me in a twisted way because they show, feel, and articulate so much of my thinking.  The first time I watched it I cried a lot.  The same as the first time I read Wasted.  I cried because they are me and it was shocking to see/read it.  At 15, when they weren't me yet, it might have made me see how much such a seemingly simple act can effect your entire life.  Maybe watching things like that or Dying to be Thin, Intervention, and various others would have made a difference.  Maybe not.  I can't tell because I perceive them now from the perspective of someone who has gone back and forth from ana behavior to mia (EDNOS) for 16 years.

I do know that I've yet to meet anyone my age that has just recently developed ED.  I know it's possible, but really I think you can still always trace the beginnings back to early teens at the latest.  So the time for education and searching for warning signs has got to start young.  I teach 4th grade.  I can tell you right now that my 9/10 year old girls come to me each year already aware of and/or worried about their bodies.  I've had many already on diets and actually tell other girls or me that they think they are fat and need to lose weight.

But it's a two sided issue because at the same time I have actually overweight and/or obese girls each year too.  We can't give the message that fat is healthy either.  It's a tricky balancing act.  Be healthy, exercise, and be mindful of what you eat but don't become obsessed and idealize a body type or weight that is not in your healthy range or possibility.  I don't want my girls to idolize Adele and her I'd rather be fat than not eat what I want when I want statements, but I don't want them to grow up idolizing Audrey Hepburn (like I did) if they are 5 foot or any of the current thinspo stars.  We teach about healthy eating and menstruation in 4th and I'm convinced that body issues and direct self esteem building need to start there as well.  I know many in education do this, but a lot of times people worry about what they are allowed to say or teach.   I, however, worry that education in middle and high school is too late for our girls.  

Intervention 2

I got a text from S this morning wanting to know if I was free at 5 because she wanted to talk.  I should have known what it was going to be about and I guess deep down I did.  We avoided the topic for a long while before she mentioned that she was surprised that I hadn't asked her what she wanted to talk about.  Of course I went to my go to statement/question "You're pregnant?!"  Wishful thinking...

She said she's not observant but even she couldn't not notice the weight I've lost.  I haven't even lost much, but I have been excersizing again so I'm dropping percent BF.  It was such a defensive horrible conversation.  There's no right response.  She (being an almost licensed psychologist) thinks I need major therapy and while we can argue all day about that the bottom line is that I can't afford it until September.  And even then I'm not focusing on the eating issues.  I'll go see a shrink about anxiety for the year and revisit everything else then. 

S just is so frustrated that I won't do it this summer when I don't have to worry about work.  I'm just not willing to give up my summer and live on nothing to try to scrape up enough money for therapy.  She was so worried about me that it pissed me off.  I even asked her point blank if she had ever talked to her friend T about being grossly overweight since she was jepoardizing her health way more than mine.  That sort of shut her up because of course she hasn't really. 

No one goes to fat people and tells them they have a psychological disorder and need treatment.  No one goes to fat people and tries to convince them that they could drop dead at any moment.  No one goes up to fat people and tells them that they are crazy.  But they do say all those things to very thin people.  It's a double standard and I'm sick of it.  I'm not sick.  I'm not even underweight dammit!  I'm tired of everyone being so damn worried about me or worse yet pulling away from me.

I want to scream, I'm losing some weight... get over it!  I'm not hurting anyone, not even myself.  I'm healthy as in doctors will tell you I'm healthy.  Stop ruining my happiness over progress and making me feel guilty for my lifestyle choice.  If I go ana then you can worry and rally the troops.  In fact you'd be shitty friends if you didn't.  But I'm not so BACK OFF!!! 

Okay all vented and ready to watch a movie, forget today, and go to bed. 

Torn

I feel like I've split in two.  There's the me I am to the people in my daily life and the me that I hide except for on this blog and my anonymous fb page.  I'm not pretending to be one or the other; they are both me which gets confusing.  I'm so torn these days.  One day I think I have a problem and need to get help and the next day or moment I am super defensive to this idea and 100% sure that I don't have a problem.  

I could get into serious treatment and get fully recovered, but I could also realistically live the rest of my life just like this.  I'm not seriously jeopardizing my health.  I'm not underweight, just the lower end of the healthy range.  I could keep this up and that's what I want, but then my logical side kicks in and I'm not so sure.  

I think the logical/objective me is focused on the possible worst case scenario.  I haven't weighed this little since I was 17.  It's not normal to be almost 30 and weigh the same as you did in high school (especially if you were tiny).  But I was completely developed and done growing so I don't think it's bad either.  Granted I still aim to lose 5 more pounds which puts me where I was at 15... But I still wouldn't be underweight.  

Here's where I'm most torn.  Do I stop at 95?  Will I stop at 95?  I've promised myself and everyone else that I will and therefore no one needs to worry.  But if I'm really honest... it eats away at me that I've never weighed little enough to be diagnosed as anorexic.  Stuck forever in EDNOS, a strange state of purgatory.  

I quote her all the time, but in truth I feel like Marya Hornbacher expresses how I feel better than I ever could and on page 153 she nails it again.  "Because I was not visibly sick, the very picture of sick, because I did not warrant the coveted title of Anoretic, I was embarrassed."

Why would being anorexic be a goal of mine?  The truth is that it was a goal I settled on when I was a teen and knew nothing about what I was getting into.  But the fact that I never reached it (aka failed) has never settled well with me.  It shouldn't matter but it does.  I shouldn't be embarrassed that I am not at death's door thin, but I am.  

So am I willing to put my health in jeopardy, worry everyone, damage relationships all to check something off of my 'yet to be completed' list?  So that I don't have to feel embarrassed that while I have eating issues, I'm not dying?  I don't know... 

Honesty that Makes Me Feel Guilty

I was raised with definite contradiction in values.  On one hand I was told how important it was to look at inner beauty and not to be superficial.  On the other I was indirectly taught that thin was beautiful and fat was disgusting and almost subhuman.

Growing up pretty much on my own since my parents pretty much sucked at being parents, I've always prided myself with how grounded I've always been.  I've always been the pretty one.  Whether it be in my group of friends, at a party, at a bar, concert, in my family, work... you get the picture.  And while I take huge pride in putting myself together to as close to perfection as I can each day, I don't feel like I've ever taken advantage of the simple fact that pretty, thin females are treated better in society.  It's a cruel but accurate fact in general.  In short, I could have been a mean girl.  On top of the look, I have the high level of intelligence that it takes to truly have everyone manipulated where you want.

But I have always been known as 'sweet'.  Now, that's not to say that those that have crossed me would say the same.  When I've reason to be a bitch I am a HUGE bitch and I can make someone feel pain if I choose to (with words and actions not physically cuz I'm tiny).  I don't do this ever really now that I'm older.

Point is, I'm a nice person.  I think more about others than myself and put literally everyone else's needs above my own.  There's nothing I wouldn't do for those I care about and not much I wouldn't do for someone I didn't even know.  Which makes some thoughts I've had tonight cause some major guilt and a slight identity crisis.  I guess I can thank my Catholic roots for the quick jump to major guilt.  :)

Obviously I'm grossed out with fat.  I spend most minutes of every day obsessed with food/calorie intake, weigh myself at least 3 times a day and spent literally hours standing and exercising in front of a full length mirror.  But I'm also completely grossed out by overweight people.  Don't get me wrong, I have a couple overweight friends... but only a few and they were friends of friends of mine and I'm not close to any of them.

It's a long standing joke among all the boyfriends/husbands that come in and out of both of my closest circles of girl friends that we don't have any unattractive friends.  A photographer once said at a wedding that we must be hired bridesmaids because there was just no way one girl could have such uniformly beautiful friends in her wedding.  We all joke about it, but it's true.  We do only have attractive friends and always have.  This is most likely because we tend to polarize to like people but for me it's a little more.

I'm literally uncomfortable being around an overweight person.  I'm so grossed out and I spend the entire time thinking nonstop "Why don't they just stop eating?"  "How can they leave the house like that?"  It really makes my skin crawl and my stomach churn which can't be normal, but nothing I do is.

It happened 3 specific times just today which is why I'm writing about it.  First, I went inside the mall for a minute before heading into the theater across.  I saw these girls ten to twelve years younger than me walking around confident, in tight clothes, and also what I would call hefty or chunky.  I guess it's this new idea of big and beautiful.  It's all over the place specifically TV shows.  I get not wanting to support the growth of ED we saw when I was young, but it almost seems like we're going in the opposite extreme that's leading to obese teens and young adults.  But that's an issue in itself, point was that I was disgusted.  Disgusted and therefore judgmental of two probably 15 year old girls.

Next, I was watching Glee (quite behind) and I just can't get past their new character that's dating Puck.  It was hard enough to get over Mercedes' weight.  But she's still kind of fit and to be real African American which has just always looked better than big white girls in my opinion.  But this new character is white and grossly overweight.  Like obese and she's Puck's love interest.  Now if you don't watch Glee just know that he's hot (my fav) and I found myself disgusted every time they interacted on the show romantically.  I got the same feeling with the teens with her through out both episodes that I watched.  Totally judging her and asking the same questions along with "why would you want to have to answer to acting calls for fat girls?"

Lastly I had an Adele song stuck in my head and couldn't remember a lyric and in looking it up, I found for the first time that she's pretty overweight.  And until I checked myself I was almost immediately repulsed by her music over that fact alone.

But this isn't me!  I'm not like this.  I'm that girl that goes out of her way to be nice to everyone and make people feel comfortable in new situations.  I love meeting new people and giving them the benefit of the doubt.  And when it comes to guys, I always judge them whether for friend or boyfriend, by personality first.  Truly.  So I feel so horrible now that I realize I have such ugly thoughts towards so many women I come in contact with for no other reason but I think they are fat and I think fat is disgusting.

I'm so disappointed in myself and it's probably right now the only part of all this stuff that I wish I could change.  I wish I didn't think those things about people (sometimes friends).  I'm feeling incredibly guilty tonight, but there it is, all out in the open and honest.  

Poem Number 2

I Could Be Just Fine If You'd Let Me

(Style of Tanka)

Judging eyes pierce me.

Unspoken words stifle me.

It's my choice not yours!

Shrinking brings pain that rivals not

The grief your doubt in me breeds.

Centered Again

Sometimes it does get to me how much my obsession with weight effects every aspect of my life.  I was off all week emotionally.  Just wasn't myself.  Friday I caused my work partner to get upset and that threw me for a huge loop.  She's bipolar and I know a lot of the things she said came from her being unstable right now as she gets her meds right, but everything she said was true and threw my flaws in my face.  I don't ever need anyone to point out my flaws.  I see them all the time and see more than anyone else ever will.

This had me emotional that Friday night as I went to my mom's retirement party at a bar.  My sister and I got into it over her being selfish (she wasn't going to go until I made her feel like shit about it) and she told me I needed to get my head checked because I was crazy.  One, fuck you.  Two, I'm pretty sure I've had it checked out several times (which she knows) and would never claim complete sanity.  So I cut her off.  Told her never to speak to me again and defriended her on my facebook.

Last night I went out with a big group of friends and spent the getting ready process in a state of panic over what I was going to wear because I felt fat, but I also had to hide my thinness so it wouldn't be awkward for anyone.  I drank too much too fast because I was so anxious and then had my roommate come pick me up and left without telling anyone goodbye.  In my defense I didn't tell them because I knew someone would have wanted to take me home and I didn't want anyone to have to do that.  Also I got wasted because the bartender knew us and not only made our drinks ridiculously strong but also told our table that we would not have a drink tab that night.

I slept all day today and didn't want to get out of bed.  When I did, of course the first thing I did (other than pee) was weight myself.  I have been low all week because I gained 3 pounds last weekend at the family reunion just like I knew I would.  I was at 104 when I left and already sensitive because I was trying really hard to get to 95 by June 1st.  When I came back at 107 I was crushed.  But I thought that I would lose it fast in a couple days but funny thing about eating, when you start again it's really hard to stop.  I got on the scale today and it read 104.  This changed everything.  I was instantly happy and better than I had been all week.  I'm still bummed that I'm set back from the original goal, but at least I'm back to where I was.  I wish people understood how happy and anxiety free I am when I'm thinner and how horribly depressed and miserable I am when I gain.

So while I'm centered again it just makes me think about how much this whole thing effects every part of my life.  I've been really struggling because I'm getting all these comments about how much weight I've had to of lost and how skinny I am.  I don't feel like I have lost that much or that I'm very thin (at least not thin enough anyway).  Sometimes I wish I could tattoo I'm ED so don't talk about weight on my forehead so that I wouldn't have to feel the shame and guilt.  People have no idea how much words can hurt.  It's the comments by those that don't know that are hardest for me.  Things like my Aunt when she saw me giving me a hug and saying "You're disappearing!  There's not going to be anything left soon."  Maybe if I responded "I sure hope so, that's the plan!" maybe the topic could be dropped.

My friends that know are getting on my nerves and I'm totally distancing myself from them as a defense mechanism.  I did it last time too and it took a long time to mend the damage.  I really REALLY didn't want to go there again.  My BF C hasn't spoken to me much or invited me over and I know it's because she can't stand to watch me shrink.  My roommate took me out on a walk to ask me if I was okay because I'd been getting very thin.  My friend S is trying to convince me to go into treatment over the summer.  A just ignores but I feel the distance between us growing.  It's pretty much just the big pink elephant in the room with everyone and that causes the anxiety that makes me pull away.

J will as always be my girl this summer.  She hates it and fears my shrinking as much as everyone else but she would never cut me off or let me distance myself from her.  She can't judge or lecture because she's ED too.  She's currently recovered, but still she knows the hell and she's there for me most because of it.  I don't think anyone can really be there for me if they aren't ED because if you aren't then you really don't have any idea what the war inside my head is like.

This is why I started my other blog, to give those that care about me a window into my mind.  Unfortunately that was when I was committed to recovery and now that I'm not there are things I can't share with them.

The biggest problem now is what to do.  I am blessed with dozens of wonderful close friends and I don't want to lose them and my obsession is going to cause loss eventually.  But I don't think I'm sick.  I restrict.  I'm working on the purging and honestly if there wasn't so much pressure from people to eat 'normally' then I wouldn't purge at all.  I only do it when I eat things that I wouldn't normally and think I shouldn't.  I just don't think there is anything wrong with restriction as long as I'm healthy and I am.  I'll be healthy at 95 too.  I just wish that everyone could understand that.  I'm fine and they are pushing me away because they fear I'm not.  I hate this.